I'm still studying for my language exam next week and alternate between feeling pretty good about it and freaking out. Because I am a spaz.
Anyway, in a fit of pique I tried writing a little bit and ended up with a scene between Jim Kirk and River Tam, for some unplanned post-STID crossover (no idea if it ties into the previous crossover or not). Anyways, for kicks, here you are:
It was so cold, it felt like his flesh was ice, his bones glass. Jim felt that he was about to break--knew, was certain of it, had expected something like a measure of peace and found only fear and helplessness.
“Come back.” Words in his ear, bodily warmth against his own. “It’s ghosts. Come back.”
Jim opened his eyes. The cabin was dim, but there were still the faint yellow lights along the bulkhead. Serenity. He lay in his bunk there, his body taut with tension. Arms were around him, a leg slung over his; long hair and a scent, sharp and spicy. “River.”
“I heard you,” she said, her breath moist against the worn fabric of his borrowed shirt. “It’s not good to be alone.”
“Thanks,” he said, and put his arms around her, pulling her close. He could feel the ice oozing away from his limbs under her borrowed heat, the painfulness of it supplanted with tingling relief. The top of her head fit comfortable under his chin, and he kissed it. “Been there, too, huh?”
“Not as bad. I didn’t go as far. It was all pretend anyway.” Her shoulders twitched under his hands, the barest of shrugs. “Not like you.”
“No one’s like me.” He meant to fill his words with familiar cocky bravado, but instead they just sounded sad.
“Yes, there is. The other one. The Sleeper.” River looked up at him. “You shouldn’t be afraid of him.”
“Yes, you are.” She stroked his cheek. “He’s your darkness. That means your wavelength is visible to us between three hundred and eighty and seven hundred and forty nanometers. Light,” she explained after a long pause.
“Well. When you put it like <i>that</i>.” He gave her a tight hug. “Thanks, mei-mei.”
“Go to sleep, a ge.”